


her heart ticks away

by aetherae



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4322031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aetherae/pseuds/aetherae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Estelle hopes to be saved. (She begs to be killed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	her heart ticks away

**Author's Note:**

> the other night when i had trouble sleeping, i literally plotted this out in my head to help me sleep better. it worked. what the fuck @ me. for real though i have always been morbidly interested in what was going down when estelle was kidnapped. (also, just some minor edits and changes from it's original posting on tumblr. didn't like the way some things flowed anymore.)

When Estelle wakes up, she feels nothing.

Her eyes open, and the room unfolds before her—hardly a room even, plated in metal and pipes. There’s a strange purple film over everything. She can make out the vague sound of fingers typing away on blastia screens. But it doesn’t make sense. Estelle hears it, but her body won’t obey, refusing to turn her head so she can get a better look. She’s read about sleep paralysis, has wondered once or twice about what it’d be like to actually experience it, but this isn’t it. Her body won’t move, but she can’t even feel a bed or the floor beneath her.

The typing stops. “We’re clear to go, sir.”

“Good. Proceed with test number one.” She knows that voice. Estelle doesn’t know how she’s hearing that voice right here, right now, but she knows it.

“Alexei? Is that yo—”

The rest is choked off into a single scream. She can feel something, alright. Estelle can feel every nerve in her body wracked with pain, every cell shrieking underneath her skin. She thinks her blood must be flowing backwards, that lightning’s come down to obliterate her from the inside out. Estelle’s no stranger to pain, has healed herself more times than she can count, whether it was by chasing poison out of her own system or digging her own hands into her side to stitch her wound back together, but it’s never been anything like this. There’s never been a pain that made her feel as if all her veins were burning at once. She thinks she must be dying.

And just like that, the pain stops.

She’s heaving, the sound of her own hoarse voice throbbing in her ears. Her head is still splitting, her vision blurry, and she’s sure she’d collapse on her feet if she was standing. It takes rapid blinking for her to finally register that she’s not even lying down on anything, she’s floating.

“Aer intake and outtake was stable, subject’s vital signs remained within acceptable limits, and activation of the arte proceeded smoothly. I think we’re ready to adjust the amount of aer used, sir.”

At the corner of her version, she can see Alexei nodding. It takes all her strength just to turn her head to him. “Excellent. Gather the other researchers. We’ll proceed with the next phase of the project shortly.”

“Alex...ei...!” The Commandant turns around, face as smooth as tide-rolled stone. With his gray hair and her blurry vision, he almost looks like one. “What... are you doing?”

_To me?_ goes unsaid, but from the raise in his eyebrow, she knows he understands.

“Ah, Princess, I see you’re awake. I’m terribly sorry for the unexpectedness of this, but I’ll be having you help me with a small project for the next while. Do forgive me,” he says, smile polite and smooth, and he even finishes it off with the same flourished bow all knights know, as if asking for a dance. It makes her stomach drop. She’s seen her fair share of corrupt knights, knows insincerity when she sees it, but—this is _wrong_. Alexei is supposed to be _different_. Isn’t he?

“Well then, I suggest you rest up, Princess. I’ll see you again in the afternoon.” Alexei gives a curt nod of his head, but as he turns around, the smile on his face doesn’t match his usual regal composure. The door shuts behind him with a slam.

Estelle closes her eyes and prays she’s dreaming.

● 

It’s too real to be a dream. Estelle couldn’t imagine the dying sounds of an Entelexeia being hunted even if she wanted to.

She doesn’t want to imagine where Alexei’s gotten all his Apatheia from—it makes her stomach drop just thinking about it—but it’s evident this isn’t his first time collecting. As the creature dies, condemns them all in its death throes, she listens. Estelle wants to think that it’s the least she can do when she’s directly responsible for its death; she doesn’t miss how the Entelexeia shoots one last glare not just at Alexei but her as well. The accursed Child of the Full Moon.

Like this, trapped, with aer passing in and out of her like a gale, it isn’t hard to see why she’s an “insipid poison” to the world.

Asking Alexei to stop has done nothing. Commanding him, pleading with him, _begging_ him to stop has done nothing. Everyone around him, knight or no, is under directly under his command; no one spares a second glance at her aside from her status as a subject of study. She thought the pain alone was unbearable, that she’d rather every bone in her body broken than under another five minutes of whatever formula they’ve sewn into her, but that’s far from the worst of it. Hearing yet another being die because of her, because of her own helplessness—she can’t bear it.

Two days. Two days since she’d last seen her friends, even if it felt like so much longer. At least, she _thinks_ it’s been two days since she’d seen any of them. A day ago she was sure she saw Raven walk with the Commandant, hair pulled over his face but unmistakably Raven. When she called out to him, he insisted his name was Schwann. She insisted otherwise. But a day ago was before so many tests, before they added three more Apatheia to their system, before twelve hours ago where the pain was so great she thought her heart would stop from the agony. It became hard to remember anything past the sharp spikes of nerves frying before she blacked out. A day ago, she was sure it was Raven. Today, she couldn’t say.

When she _finally_ sees Yuri and the others, her heart quietly whispers, _I’m saved_. Their initial shock dissolves as Yuri glares, Rita shouts, Karol gapes. Judith’s face is calm but her grip on her spear is tight, and even Repede is growling. The only thing missing, she thinks, is her alongside them, sword and shield at the ready. And Raven, complaining but bow poised to shoot.

But he’s there in his own way, because _(Raven? Schwann. Raven. Schwann? Rave—)_ Schwann steps forward blocking her—their—friends, and as Alexei pulls his system with her inside it away, there isn’t a thing she can do to stop it. Helpless, again. She can hear their weapons clashing even as they leave.

“Everything’s been set to ensure the shrine collapses, yes?” Alexei asks once their outside, a knight nodding to him.

“What?! No, you can’t do this! Stop! _Alexei!_ ” She pounds against the barrier of her prison, even as her muscles scream in protest.

“It’s a terrible shame, isn’t it, Princess?” Her title is still there, but he doesn’t even look at her when he spears. “Your ‘friends’ will die in there for you. Or perhaps it’s better to say that they will die _because_ of you.”

They won’t. They can’t. Estelle believes that they’ll make it out of that shrine because—they _have_ to.

Her heart beats heavy in her chest.

 ●

Her heart pounds in her ribcage as she sees Ba’ul’s familiar silhouette. Two and a half days, sixty hours, 3600 minutes, since she’d last seen them in Baction. She’s counted the hours in fervent hope of seeing them, to space her time into something more than the torture and waiting. _This time for sure_ , she thinks, believes, because the alternative is—well, there won’t be an alternative. Not this time. She’s sure of it.

Suddenly, Yuri leaps towards her—Yuri, who led her to the outside world to begin with. Yuri, who guided her to the best things that had ever happened in her life. Yuri, who told her it was okay to do things for herself. She remembers having his hand in hers and all the good things that followed after it. As they stretch their hands out towards each other, she truly believes this time won’t be any different.

Until something shifts, something changes. She can feel it in the painfully familiar ache of her bones, and underneath the reddening sky and blowing winds, the world looks like a nightmare. The force of her own power will tear them all apart if it doesn’t stop.

_‘Or perhaps it’s better to say that they will die_ because _of you.’_

Too many Entelexeia have died because of her. She doesn’t know how many people in Zaphias will die because of her. Estelle refuses to add her own friends to that list.

Her bones ache, her muscles shriek, her heart throbs, and every cell in her body feels like it’s been torn to pieces, remade inside out only to be shredded once again. It feels like a lifetime ago she felt anything else. She can’t remember it anymore. It feels like she’s dying—but not quickly enough.

“Kill me now.”

The Fiertia is torn out of the sky. So is everyone else in it. Estelle screams.

●

Two weeks. Fourteen days. 336 hours. 20160 minutes. 1210000 seconds. She doesn’t remember what she’s counting for anymore, but still, she counts.

The sky is red. Stars are falling. A sword lies in her hands. Her face is dried and cracked from unwiped tearstains. Three days ago, she was still crying. Four days ago, she was still screaming. Today, she continues counting.

1210024 seconds later, she hears them. Voices. They’re—familiar. She knows them. Knew them? She can’t say anymore. It’s difficult to remember, but she almost thinks they’re calling for her.

“Estelle!”

“Don’t talk about Estelle like she’s just some... thing!!”

That can’t be right though. Estelle? Who is that? She doesn’t know anymore.

“Oh, but the Princess was a tool most crucial to my plans.”

Yes, that’s right. That’s all she is now. She’s nothing but a tool.

A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool. A tool.

A tool.

She raises her sword. They fall beneath her but get back up. The girl doesn’t know how, but she knows why. They’re standing up for her. To save her. Because they want to help her.

They will die because of her.

_Oh_ , she thinks, forcing her blade against someone else’s with inhuman strength. Aer surges through her, and everything about her hurts. She wants to stop; she doesn’t know how. Still, it comes back to her so simply. _I remember now._

“Please... before I can hurt anyone else... Please...”

Her broken heart's last wish.

“Kill me.”


End file.
